


Satisfaction

by DenmarkStreetGutterClub, mysteriousphoenix



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Cormoran is there to help, F/M, In more ways than one, Robin is wet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:36:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenmarkStreetGutterClub/pseuds/DenmarkStreetGutterClub, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysteriousphoenix/pseuds/mysteriousphoenix
Summary: Robin gets caught in a rainstorm. Strike helps her dry off...
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 5
Kudos: 44





	Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Greenie (hidetheteaspoons)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidetheteaspoons/gifts).



Robin hunched down further under her nondescript black umbrella and twisted the handle of the painted black door, shoving it open with her shoulder. She nearly fell through the doorway as she slipped on the puddle that had formed on the floor where water had found its way in over the threshold. The downpour had begun unexpectedly and now she was dripping all over the dingy entryway of the office building. With a sigh, Robin cast her useless umbrella to the side, leaving it to dry on an old mat next to the door, and began to climb the stairs. Her jeans were sticking to her legs uncomfortably and her hair laid over her shoulders in wet clumps. She was annoyed, wet, and thoroughly cold now. 

As she neared the familiar landing where she would normally find the door of their office, she saw only an open doorway. Robin tilted her head suspiciously as she slowly climbed the final few steps, her past experiences making her cautious. A booming laugh broke her concentration, though, as her partner rounded the corner and saw her standing there, dripping on the landing. 

“Christ, Robin, you look like you’ve had a day.”

A sarcastic smile was her only response as she climbed the last two stairs and pulled her wet hair back away from her face. “It was a _fine_ day until it started pissing down out there. I couldn’t get my umbrella out quickly enough.”

Strike smiled widely as he crossed the small landing to face her. He reached out and ran a thumb under her eye softly. “Mascara,” he whispered, the smile not leaving his face.

This was still new. They had been partners for years, but now? Partners took on a new meaning. A drunken night of confessions and small touches had eventually led them to her bed, and since then, they had been exploring what a working relationship could look like when mixed with something more. Robin still found that she got butterflies whenever Strike would initiate the small, intimate touches that had been off-limits to them for so long. She had wanted this for years, even before she _should_ have if she were being honest with herself, and seeing him look at her like that, smile at her like that, it made her appreciate every step that had led them to what they were now free to have.

“Wanna come up? Dry off a bit?” Strike asked as he tilted his head toward the stairs leading up to the small flat above the office.

“Well, I’m not going back out _there_ anytime soon,” Robin quipped as she turned and followed him up the staircase. She heard him insert the key into the lock, and his set of keys jangled together as he shoved the door open and stepped inside.

The inside of Strike’s flat was sparse and tidy, impersonal, but it smelled of smoke, tea, and soap which Robin found to be instantly relaxing. She set her bag on the counter and pulled out her mobile and camera, checking that both had survived the water unscathed. Seeing that they had, she left her things on the Formica surface to dry and followed Strike past his small table and into the sitting area of the flat. The furnishings were sparse, yet comfortable, and she longed to sink into the armchair and put her feet up after a long day of surveillance. First, though, she needed to dry off.

“You mind if I…” she trailed off, gesturing at the open door of the small bathroom. 

“Oh, yeah, help yourself to anything in there. D’ you need anything to wear? I probably don’t have much that would fit you, but—” Strike started walking toward his bedroom, his head turned to continue speaking with Robin as he went. “A t-shirt, maybe? I can see what I have.”

She stepped into the bathroom and flipped on the light, “That would be wonderful, thank you.” She grinned at him as she closed the door, the tap turning on moments later.

Strike released a breath and made his way into his bedroom where he began pulling out possible clothing options. He eventually settled on a plain black t-shirt and some grey joggers that he had held onto in case he ever lost enough weight to wear them again. Robin would be swimming in both, but at least she’d be dry and comfortable. 

He rapped his knuckles softly against the door, and Robin opened it a crack, her head visible next to the door frame. “Clothes?” she asked with a grin. Her shoulder was bare and Strike had a suspicion that she was completely naked by this point. He cleared his throat and handed the pile over to Robin, before stepping back without a word. She grabbed his offerings and, with whispered gratitude, she closed the door again.

Strike, who hadn’t predicted his afternoon would have included a soaking wet Robin, made his way to the small kitchen and began to prepare two cups of tea. He heard the door open behind him, and without looking, asked, “Cuppa?”

“Yes, please. I’m still freezing.” Strike turned to look at Robin out of the corner of his eye, but the sight of her made him swivel around to look at her fully. She was wearing his baggy t-shirt over the joggers, which she had rolled up at the waist. Her damp hair had been combed through and her bare feet shuffled along the wooden floors, pale pink toes just visible beneath the hem of the trousers she wore. _His_ trousers.

Strike had no idea that the sight of Robin in his clothes would affect him so, but he felt the corners of his mouth lift as he grinned at her. “What?” She asked, coming to the counter to take her cup of tea from his outstretched hand.

“Nothing, it’s just… you’re wearing my clothes.” His voice sounded husky, deeper. She was beautiful like this.

“You like that, do you?” Robin asked, her lips quirked just slightly in amusement. She set her tea down on the side table next to Strike’s chair. “I look like a drowned rat.”

“You look lovely, as always.” Strike set his tea down next to her cup and raised himself back to his full height. His arms slid around her waist and Robin automatically lifted her arms to snake around his neck. She pulled him closer and leaned in for a quick kiss.

“Thanks for the clothes… and the shelter…” she whispered, “and the tea. I appreciate it.”

Strike grinned down at her, his lopsided smile looking boyish and relaxed. “Believe me, it’s my pleasure.” Robin laughed when Strike pulled her closer so that her body rested fully against his. He rested his forehead against hers, feeling like he had found home after years and years of wandering aimlessly through life. “I like you like this.”

“Mmm, thanks.” Robin lifted her lips and met his, parting them to meet his slow, languid movements. She ran her fingers through his curls, her fingernails lightly trailing over his scalp. He shuddered involuntarily and she grinned against his lips.

At that, Strike pulled her even closer, pressing her against him. He was half-hard by this point, and she knew he could feel her hardened nipples through the fabric of the t-shirt he had loaned her. His hands, which had been resting stationary on her waist, slipped under the hem of the shirt and trailed up the skin of her lower back. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh and she felt Strike grin. She enjoyed his version of revenge, she decided.

Their kisses evolved, growing more insistent. A passion began to arise in both of them, and Robin knew that she needed to stop them before they got too far. She pulled back, her fingers still running through his hair. Undeterred, Strike’s lips trailed across her cheek and down her neck.

“We can’t do this right now. Pat will hear us.”

Using his tongue to run across the sensitive spot below her ear, Strike hummed before pulling back slightly to look at Robin’s face. His pupils were blown wide and he was fully aroused, ready, wanting.

“She won’t,” he said huskily. “She had an appointment, she left after lunch.” He leaned in to capture her lips again, lightly this time. “Barclay switched shifts with me so he’s out following Cat Man until late and,” he kissed the corner of her mouth, “Michelle decided to go visit her mum for the weekend and left this morning.” He kissed her cheek, then along her jaw, before his lips reached her ear. His warm breath washed over her as he whispered in her ear. “We’re alone.”

Her fingers tightened against his back with his words, and she sighed, leaning into him as his lips worked against her neck. “Good.”

Strike’s hands ran all the way up the back of the t-shirt she was wearing, his fingertips dancing across her upper back before sliding lightly down her ribcage and to her waist. “Can I take this off?” He asked her softly.

“You don’t have to ask,” she whispered as she pulled his blue dress shirt from the waistband of his trousers.

Strike kissed his way back to her lips, whispering against them. “You know I do.”

Robin smiled, thankful for his thoughtfulness and respect. “I will always say yes to you.” She breathed, desire beginning to take over.

“And I will never tire of hearing it when I ask,” he said with a final kiss before he lifted the oversized shirt up and over her head. The discarded garment landed somewhere in the corner of the room as Strike’s warm hand trailed from Robin’s belly, up, up, to wrap around the sides of her ribcage. His thumbs lightly flicked over her taut nipples and Robin hissed in pleasure. “You are amazing,” he said as he kissed his way down to her collarbone. His large hands cupped her lightly, the weight of her breasts filling his palms with perfection. _She_ was perfection.

Robin’s fingers began unbuttoning the shirt with agonizing slowness, her lips trailing after. His jaw, his neck, his chest… his head fell back and he closed his eyes as he let himself feel her, knowing that, while knowing this side of Robin was still new, it was pleasantly familiar as if they had been intimate for years. 

As the last button was pulled from its fastening, Robin raked her short fingernails up Strike’s belly and to his chest, her soft hands a contrast to the spattering of hair that covered his torso. Her arms found their way around his neck once more and Strike’s hand began to explore further. The soft skin of her back and hips were discovered as he pushed aside the fabric of the too-loose trousers that she wore. As he reached around her to cup her backside and pull her toward him, his hands beneath the fabric, the garment began to fall down her legs. 

Finding herself suddenly starkers, Robin began to giggle. “Well, that was efficient.” 

Strike couldn’t help but smile along with her, “I’ll say…” he trailed off, his hands finding purchase on her skin as he lifted her slightly and turned them around. He set her lightly into the armchair before lowering himself to the floor with a grunt as his leg began to protest.

“What are you…?” Robin began, but Strike shushed her with a wry grin as he planted himself on the floor before her and began pulling the joggers away from her ankles where they had fallen. He whispered to her to lean back and close her eyes as his fingers brushed up her legs slowly, tantalizingly. She did as he asked, the sound of the rain hitting the window behind her and the smell of tea and smoke surrounding her, adding to her sensual stimulation. His fingers and lips caressed her legs, her thighs, her hips, her belly. She knew what was coming, but even after the anticipation, she felt a jolt move through her body as his fingers began to gently guide her legs apart. 

His fingers came closer, closer, closer to her center and his lips followed like a moth to the flame. Then he was there. Strike ran a single finger down her slit from top to bottom before lightly trailing back up again. He just barely grazed her clit and her head fell back against the headrest of the chair with a dull thump. “Jesus, Robin...you’re so wet.”

“For you,” she replied as her fingers ran through his curls. He kissed his way up her inner thigh and then his tongue followed the path that his finger had just taken, down and then up again, only this time he stayed. He pulled her hips toward the edge of the chair and this angle made it easier to reach her from his position sitting on the floor. He flattened his tongue, running it along the sensitive flesh, and Robin moaned.

Spurred on by her sounds, Strike wrapped one hand around her hip, keeping her steady, and began to trail his fingers back to her center as his lips and tongue began to lightly caress and suck at her clit. Her hands flew to the armrests and she dug her fingernails into the fabric. “God, that’s good…” she breathed, her eyes still closed and her senses fully in overdrive.

Then Strike’s finger joined his ministrations as he slipped one finger inside of her. She was warm, wet, and ready, but he was determined to see her through to orgasm before anything else could happen. He pushed the digit in and out of her, the pad of his finger searching for that spot that would drive her over the edge. “Ohh, there!” Robin moaned as she gasped. Strike felt himself smile, though his tongue and lips remained hard at work. He pulled back slightly and breathed out, the air washing over her core and making her shiver. He turned his attention to her inner thighs, touching, licking, tasting, as a second finger joined his first, and Robin’s soft mewls of pleasure became more elemental. He could see her quickening and knew that she was close now.

His free hand slid up her body and his fingertips lightly pinched her nipple. Robin arched her back and her breathing became deeper. Her eyes were still closed and her fingers continued to grip the chair as Strike leaned forward and licked up her slit. He pulled her clit between his lips and sucked lightly as his fingers, buried deep within her, curled up to press into her most sensitive spot. Her breathing was quick now, the sounds she was making were of pure pleasure. “Oh, God...Cormoran!” She fell over the edge, cries falling from her lips as she rode each wave of pleasure until it became unbearable. He carried her through her pleasure, her walls fluttering around his fingers, until she placed a hand on his head, stilling him.

He wiped his face on the sleeve of his shirt before caressing her thighs and waiting for her to open her eyes. When she finally did, she smiled down at him with a look of adoration. She chuckled before leaning forward to kiss him lightly on the lips. “You’re pretty good at that.”

“So you’ve told me,” he said cheekily. She laughed again before pulling his lips to hers in a languid kiss. Their tongues danced slowly, velvet heat and Robin’s essence passing between them. After a few moments, her hands slid under his open shirt and around to his back. She leaned forward, her lips finding his ear, and whispered, “I want you…” 

Strike hummed in affirmation as he massaged her thighs. Neither was able to reach much from their positions, so Robin slid to the floor, immediately reaching for the buckle on his belt. She straddled his lap, working the fastenings of his trousers. He was rock hard and ready, and as she shimmied the fabric down his hips with his help, he moaned gratefully as his erection sprung free of its confinement.

Pushing the trousers down his thighs, Robin, on all fours, looked up at him with a devilish grin as she pushed him back against the seat of the chair behind him. “My turn,” she said with a confidence that she didn’t know she possessed until that moment. She reclaimed her position in his lap and kissed him hard, their lips and tongues moving together with the kind of passion she had never experienced until she and Strike had come together like this. 

“Here, turn around,” she said, using her thigh to push his legs so that he spun around and placed his back against the seat of the chair. “There…now lean back…” Robin towered over him in this position, even though he was much taller than her. She felt powerful, desired…

Strike’s hands wrapped around her waist and her breasts, now at the level of his face, were kissed and caressed. His eyes were closed and Robin watched him as he caressed her, his tongue sending shocks throughout her body in pleasure and anticipation. Robin reached down to line them up. He looked up from his position below her and their eyes met as she slowly sank down. He stretched her deliciously and she leaned down to kiss him, the kiss more gentle than those they had shared moments before, as, finally, she felt her hips meet his. He moaned into her mouth and wrapped one hand around her head, burying his fingers into her golden locks. “You are perfect,” he whispered against her lips. She began to rock her hips, slowly at first, and then faster, spurred on by his look of pure adoration and lust. She felt him within her, stroking her, and she began to rock faster, lifting her hips away from his and plunging back down in a steady rhythm. 

Hearing him cursing under his breath, Robin began to feel the heat in her belly coiling. This position was Heaven, and she was getting closer. She leaned back slightly, grabbing the chair cushion with one hand and placing a hand behind her on Strike’s thigh. “Oh! Oh, yeah…” she breathed to herself as her new angle began to hit that spot that she had never been able to find during sex before. “Right there. Right there…” She moaned as Strike reached between them and wrapped one large hand around her hip, his thumb resting gently on her clit. He didn’t move, but her rhythm rocked her directly in the path of the pad of his thumb. She threw her head back and rode him harder, meeting his hips fully with each movement. 

“I’m close,” he said through a moan, his thumb pressing just a bit more firmly against her nub. 

“Me, too…”

She was. She felt her muscles begin to flutter around him with every stroke. She leaned up again, wrapping both arms around Strike’s neck, and she let go. Her back arched as she moaned, the sounds emitting from her a cross between a cry and a sob. Robin felt Strike’s fingers dig into her hip as he held off his own climax, making sure she was satisfied. His thumb continued to caress her clit until she reached down to grab his wrist. She pulled it up to face level, then meeting his eyes, she wrapped her lips around his thumb and sucked lightly. 

“Fuck,” Strike growled, his hips bucking. The jolt sent a bolt of pleasure through Robin and she hummed, leaning forward to wrap her arms around his neck. Her fingers played with the color of his gaping shirt, which was still draped over his shoulders.

She leaned in to kiss him before asking, “What do you need from me?”

“Just this,” he said as he guided her to rock against him, up and down. She held him close, the coarse hair on his chest doing wicked things to her taut nipples. “Just like that,” he whispered into her ear. She guided her body up and down his shaft, occasionally pulling up all the way to his tip before sinking back down on his hardness. Strike breathed out deeply, his eyes closing. It took only moments before he became putty in her arms. His body shuddered and his breath hitched as his arms wrapped around her back, holding her to him. His hips bucked into her and he came. Hard. She continued to ride him, leading him through his orgasm until he was thoroughly spent. 

Strike groaned, his head falling back against the cushion of the chair behind him. He smiled goofily, chuckling. He removed one hand from Robin’s back and ran it through her hair. She looked up from where her head had landed against his shoulder and smiled widely. “How are you,” he asked, his fingers continuing their caresses. 

With a deep breath, Robin pulled herself vertical so that she could look at Strike face to face. The movement caused him to slip out of her and she made a face. He couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m wonderful,” she said honestly. “That was…”

“Yeah…”

She grinned. “Excellent.” She leaned forward and Strike met her halfway. They shared a chaste kiss before she whispered, “except for my bloody thighs. They are not so excellent right now.” They chuckled together before sharing another kiss.

“How ‘bout I make us some fresh tea and we can drink it in bed?” He asked, knowing that she would be agreeable. “Maybe I can massage those thighs in a little while…”

“Uh-huh,” she said, shaking her head in amusement. “Just a massage.”

“I need to keep my lady satisfied.”

Robin grinned and rolled off of his lap, standing up on shaky legs. She leaned down to help him up, holding a hand out to him. “I am not worried about that…” She pulled Strike to his feet and watched him pull up his trousers from where she was leaning against the frame of the door to his bedroom. “I’ll just be in here, waiting for all those ways you’re going to keep me satisfied…” She turned away and walked into his bedroom, her still-damp hair tumbling down the fair skin of her back. She turned her head and looked back over her shoulder, shooting him a grin.

He, Strike realized, was the luckiest man in the universe. He had to be. He picked up the two cups of tea, now tepid, and shuffled back into the kitchen to replace them. Not that they would drink them anyway, but it was the thought that counted. 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Greenie!


End file.
